A poem about Max Scherzer’s 1926 funeral Mass in Chicago and a brief and unhelpful philosophical essay addressing why there’s such thing as a poem about the 1926 Chicago funeral Mass of Max Scherzer, who in reality is thankfully alive and well and was born in 1984

When we ponder death, we console ourselves with the knowledge that we weren’t around 40, 50, 80 years prior and were not then troubled by that prevailing oblivion. Why, then, should future oblivion bedevil us? The poet Philip Larkin, among … Continue reading A poem about Max Scherzer’s 1926 funeral Mass in Chicago and a brief and unhelpful philosophical essay addressing why there’s such thing as a poem about the 1926 Chicago funeral Mass of Max Scherzer, who in reality is thankfully alive and well and was born in 1984

Of Memory and the Homunculus in the Box Score

On July 1, 1990, I, in the seats of Busch Stadium, witnessed Zane Smith of the Pirates take a no-hitter into the ninth inning. He eventually yielded a safety — a groan-able safety — but his sparkling effort was something I would invoke and proudly speak of over the years. For I was there! Excelsior to my experiences! Except that it did not happen. As I would learn years later, Smith was superlative that night, but after 5 1/3 innings of work he had given up five hits. He pitched a 1-0 shutout, but he didn’t come close to a … Continue reading Of Memory and the Homunculus in the Box Score